Clockwork
by Mai Lin
Summary: I was tired of reading awful stories about Edward finding some modern chic and I wanted to write something deeper. Just a reflection so far, but hopefully a good one, takes place after the movie. please RR!
1. time

alright, like everything I write, a wind came and I have this urge. I have spent weeks looking through here for good Edward fiction and I am so tired of stories about Edward meeting some new modern girl who talks like, like , like totally like this. Everything is shallow and I want to write something for the story that really shows what the story is. Where can I begin? Again, I have no idea where this is going. I just want to_ write_, which I haven't done for a very long while.

Snow. He enjoyed bringing the snow. It had made people happy when he did it. It had been such a good feeling, to make people happy. To see their eyes light up. To give him existance. A job, if you will. Every year around the holidays, even though he knew he couldn't be there with them, he was doing his part. And every year when that first chill went through the air, and the lights and trees went up, he knew it was time for work. And so this is how it went year after year.

An eventless existance, put into schedule like clockwork. Edward became, like every part of the town, one small wheel that made up the motion of life. One wheel that was sent into motion by another, and put motion to others. A monotonous life-style that went on for a number of years. Everything fell into order once more. He didn't need to sleep anymore, a strange gift he had been given but had no need for. He had slept before. It had been a nice experience, to dream. Having never experienced dreams before, it had come as an unexpected thrill.

But he hadn't slept since the days he had been part of the town. Oh, it had been so nice to be part of them. Not just and outsider, quietly doing their part to move things along. Not standing on the sidelines, not watching from above, helpless and unable to do anything but watch. Now his days were like metal. Hard and bare and ever getting cold. Metal, cold and dangerous. Yet useful, and misunderstood. When metal is understood, it can be used to make great things, to be used for tools and trivial things and weapons. Vast and cold and bare. That was his existance.

He never slept, and watched the day turn to night, having nothing to do but roam around the house, and watch. He watched as children grew up, as people moved away. And when that first small chill came through the place, he got to work on his sculptures, never letting anyone down. But he yearned for it again, as he always had. He wished he had been finished. He wished he could sleep and eat and feel. Nerves were such a strange thing that he didn't quite understand, having little experience using them. He wished he understood what seemed obvious to the rest, that he understood why it had to be.


	2. breath

Hello, again, I have no idea where this is going, thank you Riel, my first reviewer. Here is chapter two, and they will get longer, I know there are probably some grammar things but I haven't posted anything in a long while and I'm doing my best. I might add some romance to it later, ciao Tochic,

Days crept along, months, years, finally time got the best of everyone. Death was never an option to Edward. The concept of death was alien to him, suicide was as far away as the stars. The people, they simply went away. It is a very confusing thing, not understanding yourself. Most people get through those confusing years of finding yourself, but Edward had nobody to help him. It was like recieving a gift without the directions. Having legs without knowing to walk. Like never dying.

Though, like everything, nothing lasts forever. The silent clockwork would have to stop sometime. And that day came.

Almost 60 years had passed since the incident. It was getting late, well after sunset. The houses were dark. Sleeping souls went on unaware. Kim Boggs sat at home, nestled down in her favorite chair, a fire going. Positioned to face it, she stared distantly out of her window at the hill. She oftened wondered. Wondered if he was there. A sigh escaped her lips. It was almost Cristmas, but she didn't think she would get to see the snow this year. She imagined his face. Still so innocent and pure and young. She felt at her skin. Wrinkled and drawn out like ripples in water. The last few years had not been good to her. She bacame small and shriveled and tired.

Thinking about her own duaghter, and granduaghter. She closed her eyes. She hoped one day he would be alright. He would be found again. He would be safe and helped. Perhaps the stories she had told when the girl was small would drive her to go up there one day. It had been 10 years since Kim had told Maria the story. She started dreaming.

A girl, young and vibrant, dancing in the snow. A man, confused and loving, looking, everwatching. The coldness, the metal feel. She felt the strange feeling rush through her, pushing everything else out. With one breath, it escaped, and Kim Bogg's last breath sent chills.

Edward woke. For the first time in years it seemed he had fallen alseep, or had he? He had seen her, dancing. A sudden sadness came over him. He felt it was different. Words could not describe the feeling. But it seemed that all hope was lost. Every memeory he had hung on to, felt suddenly lost. Coldness came. A single tear crept down his scarred cheek, but it was frozen before it reached the ground.

And so he got to work.


	3. cold intrigue

Thanks to Laseri, Geckogirl, Riel, and Kerri Driscol, and to Geckgirl I am not against people who write those fics, I just wanna do sumfin different, believe me I have read my share of them. I cry almost everytime I watch the ending and I have dreamt about a happy ending many times. Maybe I should do another story where he get's finished, that's what usually happens in my head. Please excuse any grammar errors,

It was the worst winter they had had in years. Temperatures at an all-time low. The snow seemed to never cease. Within a week, there was at least four feet of the stuff powdered across their lawns. The schools were out a week early for the buses couldn't get through. As soon as the streets were cleared up there was a fresh new layer littered on the ground.

Some of the older residents of Suburbia seemed to know exactly what was going on. While the younger more youthful neighbors complained and shoveled and cursed the skies, the elders seemed to blissfuly go about their ways. They sat in their houses, watching it come, sometimes glancing at the house on the hill, which strangly seemed to be bare of the stuff. Nonetheless, it didn't seem to stop. Well into december, they had gone a fortnight without a rest of the falling flakes. Cristmas decorations went up. The Annual Assembly of The Christmas Tree came and all of the houses sparkled symmetrically, perfect as always.

Edward, it seemed, had forgotten how to do anything but carve. He worked day and night, never stopping. Soon the attic was filled with a silent wonderland of sorts. In the corner was an Angel, her hands held a single a rose. There was a Cristmas tree, complete with ice trimming and a star on top. An Elephant stood on it's hind legs, stampeding motionlessly. There was also a young girl, her hair blowing, her arms stretched to the sky. Joining her was a Robot, a table and chairs complete with plates and silverware, which had been especially difficult to finish, a small tree, and a clock.

The clock stood six feet tall. It had been his most recent acheivement, apart from the cat he was working on in the moment. He finally sagged his shoulders and climbed down from his ladder. It seemd now, he didn't know what to do with himself. How long could it go on like this? He usually stopped shortly after the Christmas lights came down, which on some occasions had stayed up well into February.

He knew he would have to stop. He realised he hadn't even seen it yet. Flinching slightly, he made his way to the Window. Eyes open wide, he gazed distantly at the white wasteland. It was beautiful. He wondered if Kim had seen it. Something told him no. He couldn't figure out what. It was like a pull in is chest and an emptiness in his head. What would happen now? Would it keep going on like this?

Edward suddenly thought of something. Something new. He had normally stayed in his attic, occasionally going to check of the topiaries in the garden. There were many rooms left unexplored in the mansion. Rooms his father had never let him see. He sometimes remebered his father. He remebered that moment when he had first opened his eyes. There was a small shock and a click in his mind's eye and suddenly he came alive.

He remebered not being able to move. He slowly figured out how to move his arms up and down. Facsinated by the metal blades he saw, he had brought them up to his eyes. His father watched exitedly, eyes edging him on. He looked down. His body ended suddenly, and where legs and hips and feet would be there was nothing but space.

Edward thought of some simple experiments that they had gone over those first few weeks. learning how to speak, move your tonge to the words you thought. He had learned to move his face, enjoying when his father applauded him, almost as if it was a game.

Making his way down the stairs and into a hall, Edward decided on a favorite door of his. It was tall and ornate. Decorated with intricate designs and fragile swirls and shapes. He was careful to never touch it, not wanting to scar the design. He knew something important was behind it. A feeling he hadn't felt for decades flowed through him. A feeling that one forgot about when living a clockwork life. Anticipation.


	4. eh

Please excuse my grammar. Sorry for the long inbetween. My muses tend to skip around and I hope you all can put up with this at least. Thank you. This will be it I think. I know it's short. Please review

All Edward knew was tangible. Light was light. Dark was dark. There was hard and soft and cold. The strange ideas of emotional being were complex and although he knew of it, he could not understand. He traced a blade over the contour of a swirl on the wood of the door and pushed his way inside.

This had been his father's room. Covered in a layer of dust, it seemed forgotten. In a way it was. Edward remembered watching his father walk off, leaving him for the night. Back when he had tried to sleep . Tried to make him proud. He had often wondered where his father could have possibly gone. All Edward had known was that one room. The room where he was made, where he was taught. His first time through the rest of the house had of course been an interesting experience for the both of them.

The room was large, with high dimensions and slanted ceilings. Opposite from Edward was a full legnth window. Dull, ancient tapestries hung limp from the valence. A large four poster bed stood on the left of him. The worn evergreen of the sheets and rug seemed dull and a stark contrast to the eerie white light shining in from outside the window. He took several steps towards the window, then stopped as something sparkled in the corner of his eye. He turned his head. To his right was another door. This one was smaller then the door coming in, but with a similar design and shape. He turned and started walking towards it.

Edward pushed the door open with a small struggle and tried to adjust his eyes to the darkness. There wasn't any light except for the small amount coming from where he stood in the doorway. More curious than weary, he stepped inside and fumbled around in the dark for several moments. A sound like a harsh wind suddenly met his ears and he jumped at the event. Suddenly a strange glow filled the space and Edward again made to sheild his eyes to the new lighting. With another small whimper he realized he had accidentally slashed at his forehead in the process.

Sighing heavily, he looked at his surroundings. It was a very small room, now completely white and glowing with the strange new artificial light. He turned full circle and caught glimpse of a small black box laying in the corner. He walked towards it and leaned down to attemt to see what was inside. It was the size of an ordinary shoe-box and very plain. Simply black, which looked eerie and inviting against the cold white emanating from everywhere else.

After a few minutes of scratching and pouting quietly, the lid lifted slightly and he pushed it off. Edward stared silently at the box now. His face set in an unemotional frown. He began shaking slightly, a chill ran up his neck that made two small tears begin to form in his dull eyes. Blood from the cut on the side of his brow begain to stream steadily in a weak flow down his face. As one drop hit the white floor, the rose red spot depressingly romantic on the cold nothing, so did one tear. Then another.

He stayed like this for some time. Crouching down by the contents of the box, he unaware of the blood now pouring down over his face. Unaware of the all too familiar tears, he just stood staring. His stare was not human. It was not understandable by the mankind that had forsaken him. It was a mechanic stare. Set and lifeless, but with that far off tinge of grey and sadness. It was that of a machine.

Edward continued to stare at the beautiful ivory hands placed gently in the velvet interior of the box. These must have been prototypes. Or perhaps the backup that had never been attended to. One would think now that this would be the end. But how could you end something that never really began? You can't end an existance if it was hardly there in the first place? What would be from now on? All you could really hope for was that these would be forgotten. Life would go back to normal for Edward. But, then again, what was normal in the first place? And it ends, at least I hope. And life goes back to it's clockwork din.


End file.
